


Just the Way You Look Tonight

by WildnessBecomesYou



Series: Music is Not the Food of Love, but the Messenger [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Established Relationship, Fluff, HAPPY SNEK BOI, M/M, Nerds in Love, Post-Canon, Songfic, is the Ritz a character?, should be., soft!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildnessBecomesYou/pseuds/WildnessBecomesYou
Summary: With each word your tenderness growsTearing my fears apartAnd that laugh that wrinkles your noseTouches my foolish heartYes you're lovely, never, ever changeKeep that breathless charmWon't you please arrange it?'Cause I love youJust the way you look tonightCrowley teaches Aziraphale to dance at one of their favorite restaurants.





	Just the Way You Look Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale learns to dance much like I did, which is to say he gets thrown about the dance floor.
> 
> Please enjoy the (not so) sneaky solidarity 
> 
> (I am using the Maroon 5 cover of the Frank Sinatra version, but almost any which version of this glorious standard will be compatible with the foxtrot, so) (Also yes they are first dancing to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, and yes, the Tori Amos version) (I'm Soft)

To say that Aziraphale did not dance would be a lie. To say that he only danced the gavotte would not be entirely true. 

It still would have been a half-truth if they hadn’t somehow ended up at a dancing night at the Ritz. (Aziraphale suspected he knew how they ended up there— Crowley hadn’t managed to look very guilty when they walked around the main floor to their normal table, when Aziraphale noticed the main floor had been cleared of tables and chairs. The waiter had brightly informed them, as he presented cocktail menus, that there would indeed be dancing in just a short while, and if they wished to dance he could certainly put a rush on the food. Aziraphale hadn’t had the spirit to deny Crowley the rush.) 

The food was still very good. 

And he did have to admit that Crowley looked very handsome. The jacket his husband wore was patterned in black velvet, swirling gently, reminding him of snakes in the vaguest sense. He still insisted on wearing that metallic necklace-scarf, which he insisted was in style. But the shirt he wore under the jacket was a lovely burgundy— it nearly matched the wine they were drinking. 

And that was just what Aziraphale could see _above_ the table. 

He felt a warmth come over him, that familiar wave of love. Quite a pretty picture his demon presented. Crowley laughed at something, and Aziraphale nearly swooned, covering it up with a sip of wine. But Crowley caught it, kept the smile, and took Aziraphale’s hand in his, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

The floor was verging on being ready, and the tables around them were beginning to nearly tremble with excitement. Crowley did not let go of Aziraphale’s hand. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat primly. “Well, if we’re going to be dancing, I’m glad we at least dressed up.”

Crowley was still smiling, gentler though, “We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. We can just watch everyone else dance.” 

Aziraphale reached out with his free hand, turning his body to fully face his demon. He reached up to cup Crowley’s cheek and Crowley leaned into it. “We’ll dance, my dearest love.” 

Of course, they still had food. Crowley waited patiently as couples began to rise from their seats to dance. He leaned slightly towards Aziraphale, close enough that if he tipped forward, his chin would be on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

Crowley spotted them first. He lifted his hand in Aziraphale’s, pointing subtly as he murmured “Would you look at that.” 

Aziraphale looked up to the sight of two young women, hands clasped just too tightly to be casually confident. One almost visibly shook. The other had her chest puffed up like a dare. Aziraphale could practically _feel_ their hearts beating, but he could also feel the love rolling off them in waves, giving them just enough confidence to actually try this. 

They were both dressed beautifully, knee length dresses in jewel tones, the taller of the two wearing a tuxedo jacket over her ruby red dress. Her hair was pulled back in a fluffy Dutch braid, looking not unlike a mohawk. The smaller of the two moved subtly, discarding the golden shawl she wore around her emerald green, mermaid-silhouetted dress. The taller brushed some of the shorter’s curls back behind her ear, then led her to the floor. 

They began to dance. 

Aziraphale sighed a breath of relief. Crowley squeezed his hand. “No one will hurt them,” he murmured in the angel’s ear. 

“Oh, Crowley,” he murmured back, looking to him with his eyes shining, letting a wave of love nearly knock him senseless. “ _Thank_ you.” 

Crowley shrugged. He could pretend to be nonplussed as much as he wanted, but Aziraphale knew he was melting a little. “Solidarity or summat,” his demon muttered. He was being remarkably patient. 

Aziraphale took another sip of wine, then set the glass down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to lead,” he said gently, barely over the music, “unless they start playing the gavotte.” 

Crowley grinned. “I hope they don’t.” He stood swiftly, offering a hand to the angel, who took it gently and allowed the demon to push in his chair as he stood by. 

Then he was leading Aziraphale to the floor, pretending he wasn’t grinning, steps a little too fast to make anyone think he wasn’t excited. He turned the angel to face him, and his smile softened. 

“Before we dance,” Aziraphale started, and Crowley froze with an eyebrow raised above his ever-present sunglasses. Aziraphale reached up to remove them, slipped them into the pocket of his waistcoat with a smile, and reached up to Crowley’s brow. He watched a small frown form on his demon’s face. “No one will notice but me,” Aziraphale promised him, his hands coming up to cup Crowley’s face, “and I do so love your eyes.” 

Crowley exhaled through his nose as if a frustrated sigh, but his eyes were fond. He turned and kissed Aziraphale’s right palm, then took it in his hand. He turned and kissed the angel’s left palm, then guided it to his right bicep. He wound his right arm around Aziraphale’s waist and tugged him closer. Aziraphale’s slid around Crowley’s arm and behind his shoulder.

“Trust me, angel?”

Aziraphale smiled. “Always.”

He was rewarded with a truly stunning smile, and then they were off. 

As near as Aziraphale could tell, it was some sort of modified box-step, and mostly modified so that Crowley could move them across the floor with great gusto. Guitar plucked through the air, but Aziraphale hardly noticed it for the warmth at his waist and the cheek pressed to his temple. He wanted to close his eyes, but wasn’t sure he would be able to keep upright.

_“The streets of town were paved with stars, it was such a romantic affair…”_

Crowley would never admit to humming along, but Aziraphale felt it. He felt the rumble of Crowley’s chest held to his own, the way it nearly radiated through the both of them. 

He would tease Crowley later for winking at the young women they flew past. But it made the shorter of the two laugh, the edges of her skirt bouncing with delight, and her partner’s coat flared to the left as they took up their own sweeping pace. 

_“And as we kissed, and said goodnight, a nightingale sang in Berkeley square.”_

It suddenly seemed as if the whole dance floor was whirling at the same pace as they were now, the slow swaying replaced by languid and long and graceful steps. Aziraphale nearly stumbled in surprise when Crowley pushed him out just a tiny bit, spinning him even as they continued moving. Crowley laughed gently, pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s temple, and held him closer. 

_“I know ‘cause I was there…”_

Aziraphale tucked his face into his demon’s neck. When Crowley stood like this, to his full height, proud and poised, it was quite easy for the angel to feel much shorter. He smiled as he closed his eyes, feeling Crowley slow down ever so slightly. 

_“That night in Berkeley square.”_

He pulled back from where he was situated to look up at Crowley as they stilled. The demon tipped his head forward, touching their foreheads together. 

They were not the only couple to exchange a kiss at the end of that particular song. Many were tender, gentle kisses. Crowley and Aziraphale were no exception. 

The woman who had been singing for the past half-hour or so exchanged a kiss on the cheek with the young man coming to take her place as the assembled crowd and watchers applauded politely. As he took his place, the band started back up.

The assembled crowd seemed to gasp together in delight. Aziraphale heard one woman exclaim “Jim! Our song!”

He looked up at Crowley with a grin. Crowley squeezed him closer. “This one’s faster.” 

“The last one wasn’t?”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley grinned mischievously, “not nearly so.” 

_“Some day, when I’m awfully low—“_

They were off. This time, Aziraphale recognized the step; a foxtrot, two long steps and several shorter ones. 

_“When the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight.”_

Aziraphale thought he could get the hang of this one. It wasn’t so different than the gavotte, in a way. He still felt breathless with movement, and he and Crowley were still the fastest movers, but the whole floor was really moving now. Couples weren’t keeping to boxes of space anymore. 

Aziraphale wondered if his dear demon had this effect on every dance floor he tread upon. He wouldn’t be surprised. The demon was really quite a softie, and a huge romantic at that. 

_“Yes you’re— lovely, with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft—“_

Crowley bent to kiss Aziraphale’s cheek, and the angel couldn’t help but giggle. “Crowley!” 

Crowley answered back in mock indignation. “Aziraphale!” 

Aziraphale swatted at Crowley’s chest with the hand that wasn’t occupied. “You silly thing.”

_“There is nothing for me but to love you, and the way you look tonight.”_

“You love it.” 

“I do.” 

Crowley let out a self-satisfied hum, then launched Aziraphale back from him. He pulled him right back in, a quick snap of movement, and Aziraphale huffed at his own breathlessness. 

“Spins are boring.”

_“With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart…”_

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, and then he caught Crowley’s expression. His cheeks reddened. 

There could be no doubt, not even to the casual observer, that Aziraphale was the center of Crowley’s world. His eyes were too tender, his smile too soft, the lines by his eyes too fond, for anything else to be true. 

“You’re doing great,” Crowley hummed lowly, sweeping Aziraphale into more jerky-swingy steps, and Aziraphale could only stammer out a thank you. 

_“And that laugh wrinkles your nose…touches my foolish heart!”_

Aziraphale was thinking he could start to enjoy dancing. 

_“Yes you’re lovely, never ever change; keep that breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it?”_

Aziraphale was stunned that Crowley was fully singing along now. But his voice was so lovely, and he could only stare in wonder and let the demon lead him. 

_“Cause I love you! And the way you look tonight.”_

As the instrumental took over, Aziraphale lost track of the world in a series of swings and spins, barely feeling his toes touching the ground. He didn’t think his heels had touched it in quite a while, certainly not since the song began. But he didn’t mind. 

The dance floor spun, and couples weaved in and out of each other, hands bumping occasionally in friendly charm. 

And then Crowley was pulling him in close again, still singing along.

_“With each word, your tenderness grows, tearing my fears apart— and that laugh wrinkles your nose, touches my foolish heart, oh!”_

Crowley dipped, actually dipped, Aziraphale on the _oh!_ , and Aziraphale felt his breath leave his body in a laugh. He couldn’t stop giggling, and Crowley was still singing along, and oh, dear, his demon was rather the romantic, wasn’t he?

_“Yes you’re lovely, never ever change; keep! That breathless charm, won’t you please arrange it? Cause I love you!”_

Crowley had some vibrato, Aziraphale noted. 

_“Just the way you look tonight, mmmm, mmmmm…”_

They slowed with the music, and Aziraphale’s giggle died a happy death as Crowley pulled him in ever-tighter, bending over him slightly, noses almost touching— 

_“Just the way you look tonight.”_

Crowley kissed him, and Aziraphale held his husband to him tightly, his free hand coming up to frame Crowley’s face. 

He could very much get used to dancing.


End file.
